Love Is Noise
by SWALK
Summary: Eames wakes up one morning to a blue eyes, not brown. It's been five years and he still hasn't been let in past the first wall. And then it all breaks down. Eames/Arthur Inception/Mysterious Skin crossover because the world needs more.
1. Are We Blind?

**Okay, so this is my first piece uploaded on here and if you want more, just let me know and I'll do more. Also, let me know what you think :)  
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**It's Eames/Arthur from Inception but also draws upon the film Mysterious Skin.**

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><p><strong>Love Is Noise<strong>

It was one of those rare times when the Brit woke up first. And by rare, it only happened at maximum twice a year. Lifting his arms up, underneath his head, the man turned to look at his sleeping partner, a smile, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

The man next to him was how he should be; unguarded and natural. His brunette hair, free from gel, sticking out at all angles, his lips parted, his shallow breathing just about evident. His eyes were beginning to open. Eames loved moments like this.

He carried on watching as his lover yawned and stretched out his body, just narrowly managing to avoid hitting the Brit in the face.

"…Morning," He grumbled sleepily, the word slightly drawn out with an accent Arthur rarely used, unless he was tired or completely comfortable. Eames just smiled down at him, lighting a cigarette.

"Morning, love," He replied, feeling Arthur roll onto his side, facing him. Eames looked down again, just as Arthur was about to open his deep, dark brown eyes.

Except, when they opened, they were blue. Blue eyes that looked fair too pained and hurt and devastated; that looked like they had already seen too much. They looked like they belonged to another person and not the deadly point-man beside him.

Eames didn't know much about science, but he knew that eye colour couldn't magically change overnight. He wasn't that stupid. And judging by Arthur's wide eyed stare, Eames had not contained his reaction well.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Arthur mumbled as he hurriedly tried to get out of bed, however, his slender limbs managed to get tangled in the bed sheets and he ended up on the floor. Eames remained silent for a few more moments, knowing that Arthur was looking up at him, still whispering a desperate "fuck".

"Blue…Since when are your fucking eyes blue?" Eames managed to ask, after contemplating how best to respond and then drawing out Arthur's guilt by taking a moment to smoke again.

Arthur sneered at him, "Since ever." He hissed at the stupid question. Eames shook his head in disappointment, and for the third time in his life, Arthur felt his world caving in around him and his heart sinking. He grabbed for his totem, which was under his pillow but Eames stopped his wrist and pulled him up onto the bed angrily.

"It's been five years. _Five_, Arthur! Does that mean nothing to you?" He snapped as Arthur's gaze dropped and he looked anywhere but at Eames. He shook his head sadly. And in that moment, Eames saw how truly vulnerable Arthur was and just how many of his walls had broken down.

"I…uh, I…fuck," Arthur whispered, looking at Eames' hand wrapped around his wrist tightly. It was hurting and he was sure it was going to leave a bruise. He didn't care, he probably deserved it. This was Eames. They'd been 'together' in some sense for five years, during which time Eames had been completely open and honest; revealed his true self to Arthur. Had waited for Arthur to do the same, uncertain as to whether he actually would. Arthur had watched Eames fall in love with him anyway, had listened when Eames finally told him that he loved and cared about him deeply. And he had hidden from him, lied to him by not telling him the truth. He had let Eames fall in love with a shade of what he really was, _who _he really was.

"You won't love me anymore," Arthur whispered, and for the second time in his life, he felt tears rising to his eyes, threatening to spill over. "I've fucked everything up again," He whispered once the sobs started and they just wouldn't stop.

Eames was now uncertain about what to do because he couldn't be mad when Arthur, stick-in-the-mud, show no emotion-no weakness, Arthur was having a breakdown, scared that Eames wouldn't love him anymore. Eames would never stop loving him but he felt betrayed and untrusted, although he knew that wasn't true. Arthur had hurt him, yes, but when he looked at Arthur's pale wrist which was now turning purple and looked at the tears cascading from his eyes, he had realised he had hurt him too.

"You won't love me anymore," Arthur whispered again as he grabbed his ears and drew his knees up to his chest. "You'll find out and leave, you'll hate me and you won't love me, please, please, please, Eames, _please_," He begged as he sobbed and finally, Eames wrapped his arms around him, not saying anything comforting, but silently telling Arthur that he was still here.

When the sobbing subdued and Arthur stayed hidden in Eames' muscular chest, the Brit finally decided he had something worth saying. "You have to tell me the truth, Arthur, no more hiding." And Arthur knew by the tone in his voice and the finality of what he said that if he didn't, he'd lose Eames forever.

He pushed Eames away from him slowly and looked up at him with his blue eyes rimmed red, he opened his mouth and the only thing that managed to come out was, "You won't love me anymore, Eames."

Eames said nothing, promised nothing because he knew absolutely _nothing_ about this man. But without the harshness of the slicked back hair and the suits that Arthur hid behind, he saw clearly, for once, Arthur's age.

"How old are you again, pet?" He asked, lighting another cigarette. Arthur looked up at him.

"Twenty-five."

"When did you get into the business?" Eames asked lightly, slightly relieved at the fact Arthur was now answering questions.

"When I was seventeen. Cobb found me." Arthur replied again, a terrible sorrow tinting his words. Eames wondered whether he had over-reacted and that forcing the truth out of Arthur might be damaging to them both. But then he remembered that he had known Arthur for five years and even on the mornings when he woke up early, he had never seen blue eyes. He'd ignored that stupid accent but he could not shake the eyes that looked like they belonged to someone else.

They sat in silence for what felt forever to Arthur, with Eames mulling over a million questions in his head. Every now and then, he'd turn to Arthur, his mouth open as if he was about to say something and Arthur looked at him hopefully and then Eames quickly turned away again.

"Please, Eames, please," Arthur begged when this happened for the fifth time, panicking when Eames started chuckling to himself bitterly.

"I want to say you lied to me, but you didn't, did you, you sneaky son of a bitch? You never once lied. You fucking hid, didn't you darling?" Eames asked bitterly, a slight venom to his voice; the betrayal that Arthur had never opened up to him evident.

Arthur remained silent, but finally managed to whisper a sincere apology. "There are some things that people should never have to experience, Eames, I-I I wanted to-"

"Cut the bullshit. I thought you trusted me, Darling, I thought you trusted me more than _anyone_ else."

"I do," Arthur dropped the gaze he'd managed to hold with Eames. Eames' anger was still evident, but his features softened up slightly.

"Then tell me your story. I want to know you, Arthur and I don't because you won't fucking let me."


	2. Love is Pain

It had been about two weeks since Arthur had mumbled a name that meant nothing to Eames and didn't really help Eames know Arthur any better. Arthur had grown slightly weary of him and kept speech to a minimum. Eames was growing slightly concerned, to say the least, especially when Arthur started having nightmares he out right _refused_ to talk about, even though he woke up crying and screaming.

It only took a few days of Eames' questions before Arthur started sleeping on the couch as a way to avoid them. It hurt Eames slightly. He never said anything. Neither did Arthur.

It took Eames a month to grow frustrated with living with an Arthur who was trapped in his thoughts too much. They were sitting down and eating dinner when the Brit decided to approach him.

"Why are you still hiding?" He asked, as he sipped his coffee, trying to watch Arthur's reaction. It took a few moments for Arthur to drag his gaze away from the window and to look at Eames. He tried to make it look like he hadn't heard the question, but he had, they both knew it. And in comparison to the _forger_, the _thief,_ Arthur really was a terrible liar.

Arthur, still, remained silent, as if waiting for Eames to continue. The Brit sighed. "Why are you still being so bloody _difficult_, Arthur?"

The younger male flinched at the use of his name, his partner rarely used it and up until that point, Arthur had no idea how frustrated Eames was. He looked up apologetically. Eames was still getting used to those blue eyes and he still didn't think they fitted with Arthur, but he was glad at least that Arthur had given up the contacts and was exposing some part of himself.

"Sorry," He muttered as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Eames' tenderly, and then backed away quickly, as if he might have overstepped his mark. "It's just…I can't get the words…"

"And I won't love you anymore." Eames finished bitterly, slightly snapping. He'd been hearing the same argument day over and over. "Which is bullshit."

Arthur looked doubtful. "Neil McCormick."

This was the second time Eames had heard this name and he growled and slammed his mug down onto the small table. He didn't say anything as he tried to calm himself down but he was growing tired of Arthur hiding. "Play a new record. Who is he?"

Arthur didn't respond for a while. Eames stood up and started pacing. He looked down at Arthur who was watching him, his teeth nibbling on his lip enough to draw blood. He truly looked distressed. Eames tried to tell himself that he didn't care, that he just needed to know the truth, needed to know Arthur.

"I swear, Arthur, I fucking swear if you don't tell me, I am walking out that door." He hissed as he walked towards their apartment door. He heard Arthur move behind him and then he heard a distinctive clatter as he threw something at the wall.

"Neil McCormick was_ me_, Eames. Please, please don't leave me. Please. Not alone." He cried as he slumped against the counter. He was clutching at his ears again, not looking at Eames, just repeating please, please, please.

The Brit stopped moving and went to sit beside Arthur, not telling him that he would never have left him, that he loved him too much to do so but he couldn't. He needed Arthur to believe his ultimatums.

"What did you say, love?" HE whispered as he pulled Arthur closer to him. He was sobbing frantically, and had started rocking in an attempt to calm himself down. It wasn't working. He didn't even acknowledge Eames' arm around him.

"Neil McCormick is _me_," He gasped out painfully, like a fish out of water. Eames pulled him against his chest and let him cry because he didn't need any scornful words and he couldn't bring himself to ask about Neil McCormick because it was clear that something had happened which had turned Neil into Arthur.

It seemed hours before Arthur calmed down and pushed himself away from Eames silently. Eames looked up at him as he stared down without emotion tainting his eyes. "What's up, darling?"

Arthur stood silently, as if looking for the words to say, but it looked like they would never come. He just stared. Eames waited patiently and then Arthur's lips parted. "I don't want to remember anymore; every night I go to sleep it's the same fucking thing, every night, and I can't do it anymore, Eames! I can't do it!"

Eames looked up at him, contemplating. "I don't know what you're remembering. You won't tell me." He knew that he was probably being selfish, but he wanted to see all of who Arthur, wanted to know what had made him into who he was today. He'd done the same, he'd taken Arthur to meet his mother in England, and he had showed him where he had grown up. He'd told him everything.

"Tell me, Eames, tell me that you love me," Arthur whispered quietly, his level stare dropping to the floor.

"I love you," Eames said loudly, he would shouted if he needed too. "I love you, and I always will; _no matter what_."

He didn't know what he expected, what Arthur would do or say in response. He didn't however think that Arthur would talk. Arthur had never said that he loved him back. Eames knew that Arthur cared, and cared deeply, but he could never bring himself to say the words. Eames was sure that Arthur loved him too, even if it was unspoken.

"I have a bottomless black hole where my heart should be." Credit to him, he kept his voice steady and refocus his stare on Eames. He seemed dangerous. "I draw people in and they can't escape, they fall in and get lost forever. I _hurt_ everyone I know."

"That's not true." Eames argued weakly, having no idea where these words were coming from. Arthur chuckled, but it sounded strange, forced and he had this sneer on his face. He didn't look like Arthur, who was so composed.

"Tell me you love me again, Eames,"

Eames looked up at him, wanting an explanation, knowing that his eyes were conveying that message. Arthur sighed as if it should have been obvious.

"I never tire of hearing you say it. I never thought anyone would say it to me. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve you." He explained tiredly, and he turned to the bathroom slowly, walking away from the conversation.

Eames knew the routine. Arthur would go into the bathroom, the door would lock and he would stay in there for hours. Back in the past, when Eames would try to get in, he'd be met with a gun in the face and a very hostile, "_Leave me alone"_ now he didn't bother.

"I love you," He said quietly, knowing that Arthur would hear it. "But dammit, you have to stop hiding from me."

Arthur said nothing. It was true that there was nothing to say. He had nothing to add to the conversation and Eames was tired. He headed to bed wondering if Arthur would join him tonight. He was nearly asleep by the time Arthur left the bathroom and he truly hoped that Arthur would climb into bed with him. Eames heard Arthur open the door and for a moment his hopes soared, thinking that he would feel the warmth of his body next to him. But then he heard a whispered, "Goodnight, Eames, I…I…Goodnight." And the thin streak of light which appeared in his room vanished as the door shut.

The Brit couldn't help the frustrated sigh that came out of his mouth as he rolled onto his back and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing Arthur.


	3. Jar of Hearts

He was woken up by Arthur screaming out in his sleep. Eames couldn't bring himself to refer to Arthur as _Neil_, and something told him deep down, that if Arthur ever heard him referred to as Neil, he'd breakdown and lose what little self-control he had.

With a heavy sigh, Eames pushed himself out of bed and walked into the living area, where Arthur was currently trashing wildly on the sofa. "Arthur, love, wake up," He whispered as he crouched down next to him. He reached out to touch him, but Arthur's arms flung about stopping the action.

"Wake _up,_ darling," He purred and then sat watching, knowing that his words had done nothing and he'd have to sit and watch this play out. It didn't take long, a few minutes maximum before Arthur jolted upright on the sofa, panting heavily and tears streaming down his cheeks, his lips ghostly murmuring words that Eames couldn't make out.

"I'm here, pet, it's alright," Eames offered from beside him, not going out to touch him. Arthur looked at him panicked, muttering something desperately, his light blue eyes wide and pleading. Eames figured it out then, the word his lips was struggling to form was 'totem'. He found it on the coffee table and handed it to him silently, watching him roll it over and over, not completely satisfied because Eames knew and if Eames knew, this could be a dream and fuck, it would never be over.

Arthur looked at him again; "Please," He whispered quietly, "Show me yours, please, I need to see something real, please,"

Without a word, Eames passed him an old pocket-watch. He watched as Arthur turned it over in his hands, taking in all the intricate patterns and then finally opening it, seeing that the time and the date had stopped, and had been stopped for a while.

The breath that escaped his lips was loud and long. "I'm sorry," He whispered as he passed the pocket-watch back to the forger. Eames said nothing, still being carefully in his actions. So he was pleasantly surprised when Arthur slide off the sofa and settled himself on Eames' lap and buried his face into his shoulder.

"I don't want to remember anymore." It was not a desperate cry this time, but an outright statement. Eames just held him and didn't know what to say. Arthur did not cry, just remained where he was for a moment, nuzzling into the warmth Eames offered.

Eames tried not to act too startled when he felt Arthur's perfect lips ghosting over his collar bone and heading up his neck and towards his jaw. "_Love_," The Brit gasped out, "I don't think you realise it's been over a month and this is…this isn't right. Not now."

Arthur growled and bit Eames neck lightly. He didn't want to talk; he wanted to fuck and to forget. He tried going lower, tried to slip out of Eames lap and started to kiss along his stomach when Eames stopped him.

"No."

Arthur looked up at him. "No?" He hissed in disbelief.

"No." Eames repeated, not offering any explanation. Arthur's expression changed fluidly, to anger and scorn to instant relief. He hadn't been ready to do anything. Not yet. Not with the nightmare so fresh in his mind.

He didn't question it. He didn't want to hear Eames' reasons.

"I want to tell you." Arthur was referring to his dream and Eames knew it. He knew that he wouldn't ever find out.

"Come to bed, darling," Eames near begged. Arthur looked at him, contemplating. Then he offered some form of a grateful smile.

"I'll be in soon," They were both unsure on what 'soon' meant. Eames smiled sadly.

"Sure," He replied as he stood up and headed back to their bedroom, which now suddenly felt like a place of exile. Arthur watched him go and headed for their study.

He left the door open, knowing that Eames probably wouldn't disturb him, and not caring if he did. He pulled out the rarely used silver briefcase concealing the PASIV device, put an hour on the clock and put himself under.

Eames left the bed again to go and check on his troubled lover, he wasn't even mad that Arthur was hiding anymore, just genuinely curious. He was also remotely proud of himself that he had rejected Arthur's advances tonight, as it took nearly all of his self-control and willpower. He hadn't had sex in a month.

He heard the gentle humming of the PASIV device before he had even reached the lounge. He groaned and walked in the study, the door was already open, as if inviting him in and Arthur was asleep in the chair. Eames sighed, not even considering if Arthur wanted him to invade his dreams or not. He just grabbed his own needle and hooked himself up, knowing that Arthur would rather show him fragments than talk to him.

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><p>Eames expected paradoxes and boring hallways from boring hotels, opened his eyes to a warmly house and on the inviting driveway was a small blonde child with glasses on staring blankly ahead, standing alone in the rain. The kid's nose was bleeding, and he looked lost. Then he crawled into the crawl space under the house.<p>

He didn't feel Arthur behind him until the man walked up to him. "Brian." He stated, nodding directly at the crawlspace where the child was hiding.

"What happened to him?" Eames couldn't help but ask, not removing his eyes from the house.

Arthur made a strange noise which sounded half like a chuckle and half like a sob. "I did."

Arthur walked over to the house with Eames following him; he opened the door and showed Eames another memory. Arthur looked away. It was one of his sessions with coach. He felt Eames stiffen next to him.

He ignored the projections, the projections of his beloved coach and himself, on the kitchen table. He ignored all the words which he had memorized by heart. He ignored all of it.

Arthur couldn't ignore the words any longer. He felt the tears falling down his cheeks and ignored it when Eames turned to look at him. "Just watch," He hissed.

"_I like you, Neil. I like you so much. When I really, really like someone...there's a way l show them how I feel."_

Arthur tensed. He knew the words, could feel himself murmuring them along with his beloved Coach. He knew exactly what was going on. This was the first time he had kissed him.

"_Shhh, angel,"_

The words didn't stop. Arthur's grip tensed on the gun he knew was in his pocket.

"_There's nothing wrong with kissing someone like this. Don't let anyone tell you that it's wrong."_

Arthur pulled out the gun slowly.

"_You liked it. It's okay that you liked it. Everything's gonna be okay."_

He turned around and shot the projection until his gun was out of ammunition and then turned on his heel and headed for the door at the end of the corridor. His speechless partner following him blindly into the dark abyss of his past.

"How old were you?" Eames finally found himself able to ask. Arthur turned back to look at him wearily.

"Eight."

They were outside and it was dark. There was a boy lying down on the floor with fireworks in his mouth, another younger boy who appeared to be sucking him off and a girl watching. Arthur kept moving, deciding that they'd seen enough already. Eames figured that Arthur was not the boy with the fireworks in his mouth. This time he remained quiet, not asking any questions. There was no need, not when the words echoed back to them.

"_There's this cool thing I wanna show you…When I was little, a man used to do this to me. You're really gonna like it."_

The next memory was of Arthur, older now, sitting on a swing and a car pulling up. There was no sound attached to this memory, or maybe there was and it was too overwhelming to remember. Words were exchanged and Arthur got into the car.

Eames didn't understand, but didn't dare ask questions. He followed Arthur as he continued to move. The sound hit him first, at the next memory.

"_I have something I want to show you."_

"_Ew."_

"_Look." _Arthur's voice had grown impatient. The girl looked at him.

"_Yeah. So?" _

"_That's me." _

The pair left, but oddly, this time, Arthur didn't move on, he walked towards what the pair had been looking at. It was an advertisement for sex. An advertisement written by Arthur on a toilet stall wall in pen. He was offering sex.

Arthur started speaking. "That was Wendy. She was my soul mate. She knew everything and she still stuck around. If I wasn't queer we would've fucked and added another fucked up kid to a society where nobody wanted it." His voice was cold, distant and Eames had never heard Arthur talking like that before. He didn't know what to say, so he opted to remain silent.

"Remember what I said?" Arthur said, glancing at Eames. The man didn't really respond, but Arthur knew that he had heard him. "You won't love me anymore."

"I will always love you," Eames said, he meant it. Arthur had been molested as a child. Molested and raped, and all these memories were the repercussion and the damage that had been done to a fragile mind.

"It's time to wake up." Arthur said, the gun pointed at Eames' head. The Brit looked at him sadly. He tried to smile.

"I mean it, love, I still love you."

"I don't want your pity." He pulled the trigger.


	4. Dark Side

Eames had noticed Arthur growing even more distant from him, although he was unsure as to why. In his childhood he had been raped and molested countless times and therefore, many of his actions were justified. No-one could go through an ordeal like that and come out the other side without something to show for it.

Arthur was still sleeping on the sofa. Eames had grown tired of trying to convince him to join him on the bed. It was a long night again, with Arthur waking every half an hour screaming. Each time the Brit went to check on him, only to get a casual, "I'm fine, go to bed Mr Eames." He was growing frustrated.

"Stop it," He demanded when he got the shrug and an order to go back to bed. Arthur looked at him, with an eye brow raised.

"Stop pushing me away." Eames continued; Arthur just stared at him, his lips curling into an unfamiliar and cruel smirk. It wasn't Arthur. The past few months he had been changing, slipping back into Neil. A person, who Eames wasn't sure even cared about him.

"I don't know you anymore, Arthur and I'm tired of trying to figure it out. I can't do it anymore. I don't even know if you _care_ about me anymore."

Arthur remained in silence, contemplating. "I do care."

Eames remained silent this time, that damn irritating sad smile on his lips (in Arthur's opinion, anyway). He growled.

"What do you want me to say, Eames?" Arthur near yelled, "You saw what happened, you saw what I did! How can you look at me like that? How are you not repulsed by what I was? What I am?"

"Not your fault, love," Eames responded softly, which seemed to aggravate Arthur even more. He didn't care; at least he was talking to him now. Actually talking about the problems in his head.

"Yes it is! I'll fucking show you again if I have to! I'll show you everything! Then you can fuck off with your looks of pity and sympathy! You won't want me anymore because I'm no good, I'm used and dirty!" Arthur shouted as he grabbed his totem and turned on his heel and into the study.

Eames sighed. "Bring it into the bedroom, the chairs are too uncomfortable."

The Brit opened his eyes to a younger Arthur, or here in the dream, it was Neil.

"_You're a stinkin' liar, Brian! The last time I saw you, you were cryin' in my arms with a fuckin' nose bleed! You don't get over that shit!" _

"_I accepted what happened and moved on."_

"_He did nothin' that I didn't like."_

"_You had to make up a lie to make it hurt less, but it's hurting even more now, isn't it, Neil?" _

The soft spoken blonde boy wasn't cowering in fear, of a very, _very_ angry boy. In fact, Eames had never seen Arthur this angry or passionate. He looked at his distant lover. He was seated as if this went on for a while.

"_He raped you-"_

"_You're lying! He loved me! He told me I was special! He called me Angel and he said that he liked me! He __**loved**__ me, Brian! Why are you trying to take that away from me, you bastard?"_

"_Because what he did wasn't right."_

"_I wanted it! I __**liked**__it!"_

The boy, Neil, was now crying and shaking violently. HE couldn't stop as his feet gave out underneath him and he sunk to his knees. Eames could tell that he was losing his control and the only thing that gave him any sense of power in the world. He'd been used and abused but didn't know it.

"_Did you get mugged on your way to the airport before Christmas?"_

The real Arthur turned and shot the blonde boy and then the projection of himself, and the turned the gun on Eames. He held his hands up in defence of himself, like he was trying to prove that he wasn't going to hurt Arthur. He was panting heavily, and Eames could see his hand clearly shaking. These dreams were torture for him but he was showing Eames anyway.

They walked for a small while, the heat really beginning to annoy Eames. It was boiling hot.

Arthur showed him the first time that he had hustled sex. He was in a grubby hotel, lying on a grubby bed, with a grubby, dirty old man's hands roaming his body. He remembered trying to recapture any physical contact that he'd had with his coach. He left Eames in the room and waited on the balcony.

"_Beautiful." _The man was staring at Arthur with a deep desire and lust in his eyes.

"_So, what do you like to do?" _The tone was cocky, laid back and arrogant. If Eames had met _this _version of Arthur, he would have hated him. _His_ Arthur was a complicated mess of organization and posh suits. He was beginning to get the idea why. It was the first time in their relationship this had happened.

"_Tell me what you want me to do,"_

"_Whatever."_ Arthur leaned back on the bed again, the man's hand gently caressing his face, and then going down to undo the zipper on Arthur's pants. Eames couldn't stop watching, no matter how much he wanted to, as this man touched Arthur's cock and looked up at him.

"_You like older guys then, huh?"_

"_Tell me." _The man demanded, as if these words could turn him on more.

"_Yeah."_ Came the reply, the voice steady, as if trying to distance itself from the situation, although it wasn't. The man had started sucking on Arthur's cock. Eames growled, this was Arthur. _Arthur_. He didn't deserve this.

"_That feels nice."_

The man detached himself from Arthur's cock to look up at him again. _"You are such a beautiful, beautiful boy." _He then continued sucking.

There was something that changed because Arthur's breath started quickening, although he was trying to control it. It only took five minutes for the man to stick his fingers in Arthur's mouth when Arthur just couldn't control his breathing anymore.

"_I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come."_

This time, it was Eames who shot the projection. He couldn't bring himself to shoot Arthur's projection, although it wasn't really Arthur, it wasn't even someone he knew. The man got one thing right though, Arthur had definitely been a beautiful boy.

Eames left the room and headed towards Arthur. "What else is there?" He asked quietly. Arthur looked up at him sadly.

"There is so much more," He whispered, and then he took a drag of his cigarette. Eames hadn't seen him smoking for a while. "Eames?"

The Brit glanced over at him. "Yeah?"

"Do you still love me?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I've been pushing you away."

Eames nodded, accepting Arthur's apology silently. The smaller man walked into Eames' muscular arms and Eames held him as the tears came. "The nightmares have been getting worse and worse." He sobbed. Eames gently stroked his head, trying to calm him down.

"I know, I know,"

They remained like that until the timer ran out, and they woke up in the real world. Arthur immediately rolled his dice and then looked at Eames carefully, waiting for him to hand over his beloved pocket watch. Eames watched as he once again studied it carefully and then handed it back silently.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered as he ripped out his PASIV line and then lunged straight for Eames and lay next to him, crying silently. Eames couldn't help but wrap his arms around him as he cried and he was constantly reminded of the crying project, the one who's heart had broken when the world that he knew came crashing down.

"It's alright, pet, I'm here, I'm here," He whispered, "It's gonna be okay, I'm gonna help you."

It was the first night that Arthur had slept in the bed for a long time, and also the first night where his sleep wasn't plagued by nightmares.


	5. Confidence and Insecurity

They had a job. Eames was reluctant to take it, not that they didn't need the money, the inception job had provided them with enough money to last for years, and it had, but they were starting to skimp and save. Arthur was getting restless, he needed to do _something_, it was just how he was and Eames had grown to accept that. However, he didn't want Arthur to take this job, not when his mental stability was so fragile. He stated as much to Arthur. He'd shrugged, pretending that he was fine.

He was sleeping with Eames again, but the nightmares struck out of nowhere. They hadn't shared anymore dreams for a while, neither prepared to deal with the backlash that was sure to be in both their heads. But regardless of the churning feeling in the bottom of his stomach, Eames said nothing and joined the job.

It was in Paris. And Eames just knew that it was going to go wrong. He didn't say anything to Arthur, didn't want him to blame himself if it did. He'd been with Arthur when jobs had gone wrong, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Arthur had got ridiculously drunk, not caring that he was losing control and composure. Eames had ended up carrying him back to his room in the hotel they were staying at, and had stayed with him when he was puking his guts up in the bathroom, and had held him when he sobbed uncontrollably in the morning, although Eames didn't know what he was _crying_ over. All jobs went wrong at some point, alright, most jobs that went wrong didn't mean the end of your life, but that what you get for having a job on the wrong side of the law. He kept his mouth shut, just making listless chit-chat on the plane. Arthur could tell that something was wrong, asked as much, but didn't get much of a response. He stopped asking but began to understand how Eames was feeling after months of being brushed off and pushed away.

"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered to him; Eames raised an eyebrow and looked over at his partner.

"For?"

"Being a dick, pushing you away and brushing you off, I'm sorry." Arthur said, like it should have been obvious. Eames should have known this, he knew him, didn't he? Eames knew what made him tick.

"It's alright, love," Eames said wearily. He was tired, really tired, he was trying to pick up the pieces of Arthur's soul and put him back together but he had no idea on how nothing fit together. Arthur was two people, not just one.

"You don't know me as well as I know you, do you?"

"No."

"I thought that you did." Arthur whispered and Eames could tell that he was being genuine. He started to chuckle, it sounded bitter. He didn't mean for it to sound that way, but it did and he couldn't help it.

"Of course you did, pet," Eames responded tactfully. "I've been getting under your skin for _years_, and we've been living together for four years, been in whatever thing this is, relationship or whatever, for five, I should have known you, but you hid everything.

"I understand, of course I do, why you did it, but now, I have to get to know the other you and get used to it, because believe it or not, you're different now, Arthur, you've been letting it slip out slowly, and I love that you're comfortable around me for that to happen but I don't know where it leaves me.

"You understand that, right? You can be so cold and distant and I'm left unsure if you care about me at all. You know I love you, and that I'll stick around for whatever, but I need to know that we have something that we can work for. I need to know how you feel because I can't guess anymore. You've never told me that you love me and I've never pushed it. I wouldn't do that, but do you understand? I'm tired of guessing now, Arthur, we're older and it's not flirting anymore. I need to know you, inside and out, and if that means you have to show me more shit, then so be it. We can talk about it later, okay?"

Arthur nodded, accepting everything that Eames had said. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Of course not, pet; just tired of second guessing."

"I do care about you, I really do," Arthur sounded lost, his eyes shining with tears. Eames smiled and nodded, kissing his forehead quickly.

"Focus on the job, darling, we have work to do. We'll talk later, I promise, you need your head in the job."

"What about you?"

"I don't know what they need me to do until I get there. You're the point man; you'll have your work cut out for you."

They sat in silence for the rest of their journey. Arthur typing away on his laptop, making notes here and there, basically, studying their mark's entire life, knowing this person inside and out. Eames smiled and stared at the window, wondering if Arthur would let him see everything and let him know him and eventually love him back. He could only hope.

* * *

><p>Ariadne picked them up from the airport, which was a surprise for them, but she hugged each of them equally as cheerfully. "Hello! It's so good to see you two again!"<p>

Eames chuckled and greeted her, just wanted to get out of the airport. He really hated airports. He'd spent too much time in them during his life. People went to the airport to go on holiday, Eames went on jobs. He got to travel the world, but he never got to see it. Only Mombasa, but it didn't feel like home anymore. The apartment he shared with Arthur was home. They could lose it all if this job went wrong. He really couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this job.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Arthur. "So, who are we working with?"

Ariadne looked at them. "Yusuf and a couple I've never met before, but you have more experience than me, and they seem to know you."

"Names please, dear," Eames said, as they _finally_ picked up their bags to leave. They followed Ariadne to her car.

"Malory and James; Malory is an extractor, James is an architect like me."

Arthur thought for a while and smiled. For the first time in weeks he smiled. "Our first job together." He stated, because he could tell that Eames couldn't remember. Then Eames smiled back at him.

The brunette girl sighed. Being new to the dream business, she had nothing to go on, and was clearly out of the loop. "So, how's life with you two? Not fed up of living together are you?"

Their smiles dropped. Arthur turned away and Eames frowned at his behaviour. "We're fine." Eames stated forcefully, not allowing any questioning, it was obvious. But no one could miss how tense their bodies were. They shoved their bags in the car and then got in themselves. Both of them sat in the back, which Ariadne found rather sweet, it was like they couldn't stand to be apart from one another. Their hands were resting together, not being held, but touching each other all the same.

"You sure you two are okay? There's nothing you want to talk about? If we're going to be sharing dreams, you know how I feel about people that keep secrets."

Arthur looked away guiltily. Eames growled in frustration. She wasn't sure who he was frustrated with, her or Arthur. It seemed like both. "We're _fine,_ Ariadne." Eames spoke up, Arthur nodding but not really paying attention.

"I told you we shouldn't take the job," Eames hissed at Arthur, thinking that Ariadne didn't hear them. "We don't need this shit. _You_ don't need this shit. Not right now."

"I had to do _something_, Eames. You _know_ that. I can't not do anything! I'm not like you. I love my job." Arthur snapped back. The girl stared straight ahead, but watching the pair in her mirror. Their hands had grabbed each other, even though they were arguing.

"You can't do your job right now! Dammit, Arthur, I swear if anything happens to you, I'll kill you."

"Nothing's going to happen! Stop reminding me and it won't. I don't need you to baby me."

Eames snatched his hand back and turned away from Arthur. He said nothing in response to his lover, but instead looked at Ariadne. "Mind if I light up in here, love?"

"As long as you open a window." She replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She had gathered from their argument that something had happened, which left Eames questioning Arthur's ability to do his job. From what she knew, Eames was the first one to stick up for Arthur whenever anyone dared to question him and that he often recommended Arthur for jobs; so what was his problem with Arthur at the moment? She noticed Arthur looking at Eames longingly, almost reaching out to touch him and apologise. It was clear that Eames was hurt by Arthur's words, but she also noticed how he sighed and decided against any interaction with the Brit. There was definitely trouble in paradise. She just hoped that they could sort it out before the job. She didn't want anything going wrong, not on the proportion it did on the Fischer job – the inception. She didn't want three people ending up in limbo. Especially not Arthur or Eames, who both had deep dark secrets.

She kept her worries to herself and went back to driving.


	6. Drive By

"Hey, Arthur," Ariadne called. The Point Man looked up and decided it was best to walk over to her. She'd been curious about himself and Eames since she'd picked them up from the airport. He'd gone back to wearing brown contacts, except when he was back at the hotel room with Eames. He knew Eames appreciated it.

"What's up? Need help with something?"

"You know I don't like secrets, what's up with you and Eames?" She asked carefully. They'd both been avoiding the topic. At work they tended to stay away from each other. Malory and James didn't seem to notice, but then, Ariadne guessed that they hadn't kept in contact for years. Ariadne had seen Eames and Arthur bloom into a lovely couple.

"Eames is worried about me. We haven't done any dream work for a while. I guess I'm a bit rusty." Arthur replied with a simple shrug. Eames looked up and over at them. He didn't smile. He hadn't since the start of the job, in public or in private.

"What's he got to be worried about? You're the best at what you do!"

Arthur smiled at her. Eames walked past and mumbled, "I'm going home, darling. See you there." Arthur turned around to look at him, his arm stretched out to touch him.

"See you," He said back and turned to face Ariadne again. "We're fine Ariadne, you should stop worry. This mission will go down fine. We need the money, so we can't exactly stop now. It's only a few more weeks. We'll make up soon." He smiled again reassuringly.

"As long as you're sure."

* * *

><p>Arthur sighed as he entered the hotel suite. "Eames?" He called out as he kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie. He heard a grunt from somewhere inside. Arthur sighed again. Things were getting worse between them and this time it was Eames keeping him at a distance.<p>

"I'm home." He stated and entered their shared bedroom. Eames was lounging on the bed reading the local paper. He looked up at Arthur just to acknowledge his presence.

He was glad as he watched Arthur took out the brown contact lenses – the lie that Eames had woken up to that fateful morning. Arthur sat on the bed beside him, unbuttoning his dress shirt and leaning over to give Eames a quick kiss.

"You're pushing me away, Eames."

"Darling, you shouldn't be working this job. I'm worried about you." Eames said as he turned his attention back to the paper. Arthur sighed.

"We need the money and this is the only thing that I'm good at. And the only thing I'm qualified for."

Eames turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Arthur smiled at him half-heartedly. "I dropped out of high school. And then I hustled sex. I once worked in _Subway_; I think that lasted a week. I ran-away and then Cobb found me. I've always been in the business. It means more to me than anyone, Eames. I _can't_ quit this job. I'm sorry."

Eames sighed defeated. "Come here, love." He ordered and Arthur found himself sitting, straddling Eames, and leaning over him ever-so-slightly. It was the most contact they'd had in weeks.

"E-Eames, what are you doing?" He whispered as he felt Eames' lips ghosting over his collarbone and neck. Eames hummed in reply. It was obvious to both of them what he was doing. They'd both missed the sensations that they gave each other. Arthur groaned loudly.

"Come back to me Arthur," Eames whispered as Arthur started kissing his neck, sucking occasionally causing Eames to gasp. Arthur was always louder when it came to sex, but Eames loved it. Loved seeing him come undone. It had taken years to get Arthur relaxed enough during sex to start moaning and groaning and letting himself go. Eames still didn't know why.

His thoughts stopped immediately when Arthur grinded against him. God, why had they stopped having sex again? It felt so damn good. Then Arthur stopped as suddenly as he started and rolled off him.

Eames groaned in frustration. "Dammit Arthur, you can't tease a guy like that and stop! That's cruelty. It's against my human rights!" He complained, pleased that Arthur laughed a little and wasn't taking him seriously.

"I need to show you more. I want you to share a dream with me." Arthur said, as he laid watching Eames' expression change. "I want you inside my head."

Eames simply kissed him and rolled off the bed to go and get their spare PASIV device. When he returned to the bedroom, Arthur had changed into his old sweats and an even older t-shirt. He was smoking one of Eames' cigarettes. Eames just couldn't help but watch; he loved watching Arthur smoke. There was something erotic about the whole act. He groaned loudly. Arthur looked up and smirked.

"You have to stop teasing me like that; you know what you do to me."

"Come to bed and hook us up. You aren't going to like what you see."

Eames walked over to the bed, set up an hour on the clock and passed a line to Arthur and pushed one into his own skin. Arthur was looking at him with sadness in his eyes that Eames had grown accustomed too.

"Tell me that you love me, please. You haven't said in a while. I know you've been mad but please, I need to hear it. There are worse things in my head."

"Arthur, _darling_, I love you. I don't know how many times I have to tell you before you believe it, but I love you."


	7. Everybody Hurts

Arthur showed him the worst thing in his head and as soon as it was done, he shot himself to wake himself up before Eames could get out of the dream. He was almost out of the front door when Eames called out from behind him.

"I don't think any less of you,"

Arthur stopped for a moment but then proceeded swiftly out of the door. He didn't want to deal with the questions that were bound to be with Eames. He knew that if he wanted to continue whatever his relationship with Eames was.

Eames was asleep on the sofa by the time he got in. He was pissed out of his mind and had various burns on his hands where he had been fumbling with his cigarettes. Eames looked peaceful enough, but uncomfortable, as he'd fallen asleep on the couch in their shared hotel room. It didn't matter, he woke up when Arthur slammed his shin into the coffee table and screamed out a string of profanities with none of his natural accent held back.

"A little drunk there, Darlin'?" Eames muttered. His voice sounded dry and his eyes were half open.

Arthur nodded unsteadily, as he tried to remain standing. "Feel better though," He replied and then proceeded to stumble into the bedroom and pass out on the bed, in what he would say was a dignified manner a day later.

* * *

><p>The job ended in disaster that ended up with Malory and James dead. Ariadne was pretty shook up about the ordeal. It was her first job gone wrong and it had knocked her confidence. Eames thought that it would do her good in the long run, if she was going to stay in the business. It would motivate her to learn how to defend herself. She'd wanted to get the first flight out to Paris. They left her as soon as they were sure she was on the plane.<p>

Arthur was relatively silent. He wasn't grieving for their fallen comrades. He'd had no true feelings for them. They were acquaintances and nothing more. But it had come as a blow to Arthur, who was currently blaming himself for being too preoccupied with the past, which then led him to blame Eames and turn on him.

"This is your fault you know." Arthur stated in the car as they headed towards a safe house. Eames raised an eyebrow but did not offer any words. Instead he focused on driving.

"If you hadn't been so god damn intent on finding anything else this wouldn't be happening."

Eames said nothing.

"You're a bastard, Eames."

"It's been five years, Arthur and you woke up with blue fucking eyes." Eames snapped back. Once again he turned his focus on driving to the safe house. Arthur turned to look at him, anger flaring up in his eyes.

"Get the fuck over it," He hissed back. "There was never any reason for you to find out. You were never meant to find out. And now you have and you've managed to fuck everything up."

"Fuck you, _Neil_." Eames sneered. Arthur pointed his Glock at his head. Eames didn't even flinch.

* * *

><p>They'd been at the safe house for a few days now and the tension between them was slowly choking them. Eames refused to talk to Arthur and Arthur was growing slowly irritated. He watched as Eames fussed at a newly stitched bullet wound, one which he'd taken on the job that Arthur himself knew he'd messed up.<p>

Arthur had taken Eames' silence to calm himself down, which was proving to be a difficult task. Whenever he looked at Eames he remembered Eames voice calling him Neil and his fingers twitched above his gun. After the first day Arthur handed it over to Eames wordlessly. Eames didn't even look up.

Since then, he decided that they would probably be here for a few weeks. So he started planning on telling Eames everything. It was a lot harder than showing him his memories through dreams, but Eames would probably appreciate it more. He sighed and grabbed a cigarette. It was going to be long.

They'd started sleeping in the same bed again, but Arthur managed to sleep right on the edge of the mattress, so as not to crowd Eames when he was asleep. The nightmares started again but both remained silent on the subject.

The nightmares were getting more and more focused on Brian and The Coach. He hated Brian nearly as much as he hated The Coach. Brian took everything he thought he knew and spit on it. The Coach didn't love him and he never had. Brian had accepted what had happened to them and moved on. Neil couldn't. The Coach wouldn't even remember him. But in his dreams he had started referring to him as a slut.

He started waking up with nosebleeds.

Arthur put his hand to his nose as the felt the warm liquid treacle down his chin. "Fuck," He growled and continued wiping his hand across his mouth.

"You should sit back and tilt your head back that should stop it, darling." Eames said quietly. God, Arthur forgot how much he missed his voice. He looked up at the forger.

"Won't work." He grumbled and let his hand drop and his nose continue to bleed. Then he started laughing manically.

Eames raised an eyebrow at him. "You alright, Arthur?"

"No. No, it would appear that I'm not. Jesus, I'm getting fucked up like Brian was." Arthur replied and then he started laughing again. "I'm so goddamn pathetic!"

"You ever going to tell me about Brian?"

Arthur looked up at him again. "I hated him with all I had, Eames. I've never hated anyone like I hated Brian."

"Why?"

"He ruined everything. You remember what I've showed you? What you've seen? God, I don't think I can even start this. Fuck you, you know that Eames. I want you to remember this and I want you to regret ever freaking out about me having blue eyes." He snapped before calming down. The nose bleed was slowing down too.

Eames watched him, "I love you, Arthur, you know that, right?"

Arthur looked into his eyes. "When I was eight, my baseball coach took me back to his house every night after practice and used me. At the time, he told me that that was what it meant to like someone, to love someone. The first time it started he just kissed me that was all.

After that, he took photos of me and recorded me talking. Then he started going down on me and makin' me suck his cock too. I'd fist him and he'd go fucking crazy. One night, it was raining after practice and Brian was there; his parents must've forgotten him or somethin',"

Eames listened to Arthur's natural accent coming back to him, and tried not to grimace at any of Arthur's story.

"We took him back with us and the coach made us do stuff to each other and then he'd do stuff to us. I was the leader, so I had to show Brian how to do everything. Afterwards, Brian just blacked-out. He fell forward and smacked his face on the floor and he got a nose bleed. We dropped him back at his house and just watched as he crawled into the crawl space beneath his house. I didn't see him for years after that. In fact, I pretty much forgot about him."

"Darling, that was not your fault, you were only eight. You didn't know any better." Eames whispered but Arthur dropped his gaze.

"You have no idea, Eames. Brian was fucked up for years after that. He thought he'd got abducted by aliens. Anyway, you want to know about me, not Brian. After coach, I tried to replicate what I thought was love. I started hustling sex, I showed you that. I must've fucked near every guy in Hudson. My mom didn't even notice. I showed Wendy. I mean, Wendy knew all the crap after that Halloween. I showed you that and I don't want to explain. I loved Wendy.

"Few years later, she managed to get herself on a bus to New York and that was it. She never looked back. She wrote me postcards though. I never replied. Didn't stop hustling either. I was good at what I did, Eames. Eric, my other friend, queer, like me, begged me to stop. The guy was in love with me, but Wendy always said I had a black hole where my heart was. None of them thought I cared. I don't even think I cared.

"I went to stay with Wendy in New York. It was great, just me and Wendy. She had a job and I had to pay rent somehow, so I started hustling in her city too. People were so weird there though; someone wanted me to fuck them although I was 16. I did it. The cash was great but Wendy worried and got me hired at the local Subway. I stopped hustling for her. Wish I'd stuck with it though.

"Eric wrote me and said that he'd befriended Brian, who'd been looking for me. The kid wanted to know if we'd really been abducted. It brought back that summer and I laughed. The kid was fucking weird, Eames. Who the hell thinks they got abducted by aliens? Eric told me about his nosebleeds and blacking-out but I didn't give a shit.

"One night I was walking home from Subway when a guy pulled over and offered to pay me good money for sex. I thought "what the hell?" I'd done it a million times, nothing bad had ever happened…Jesus, Eames, I've never been so scared. Not even when I've been shot over and over."

Eames saw tears collecting in Arthur's eyes. He reached over to him but Arthur flinched away. "You don't have to do this darling, it's okay,"

"Fuck you, you wanted to know. That guy raped me Eames. I tried to stop it and locked myself in his bathroom. He was rough and spat on me and I'm not into shit like that. He broke in the bathroom and pushed me into the tub and he cracked my head open then kept hitting me while he was raping me and calling me a slut. I tried to get out but I just turned the shower on.

"I must've blacked-out cause next thing I know, I'm waking up outside in my clothes and bleeding and the guy didn't even fucking pay me and he stole my bag. I went home on the subway. It must've been 3AM, but nobody asked me how I was. Nobody even looked back.

"I got in at Wendy's and saw her sleeping and I realised what a shit friend I was. I couldn't tell her about it, she'd hate me and never talk to me again. And I needed Wendy. I hid my clothes and just sat naked in her bathroom. Then I'd remembered my mom had sent me a plane ticket so I could go home.

"I grabbed as little stuff as I'd need and headed for the airport. I didn't wake Wendy or leave her a note. That was the last time I ever saw her, Eames, and I fucked it all up. She meant more to me than that but I just didn't want to let her down.

"I got back to Hudson and my mom was waitin' for me at the airport. She saw my face, it was all bruised and my hair still had traces of blood in it. She took one look at me and burst into tears. It made me feel like shit, so I told her that I got mugged, that was all. It didn't make her feel any better and it made me feel worse.

"Got home and I went straight to my old room. Next mornin' Eric comes in with Brian, I guess that they must've spent more time at my house than I ever did, cause mom invited them to stay for Christmas Dinner. Brian asked if I was home yet, and I just stood in the doorway and watched them react. Brian looked at me like I was some kind of god. Told you the kid was a fucking idiot.

"I made Eric drive us to the coach's old house. He was fussing over my face and asking what happened and I told him the same thing I told my mom. He looked disappointed anyway – like he knew. Me and Brian broke into the house; it belonged to some dumb family now. The coach was long gone. I looked at him and asked if he really wanted to know. He did. Couldn't just live thinking he'd been abducted by aliens.

"I told him everything and he had a breakdown on me right there, his nose started bleedin' real bad and then he just curled up on me, his head on my lap. And I let him. Eric picked us up sometime later and he took Brian home, asking if he was going to be okay. Brian shrugged and we left him. Eric asked me what happened but I couldn't tell him. No-one knows this Eames. _No-one._"

Eames looked at Arthur, really looked at him, and then he could see it. The way he held himself, like he had the world on his shoulders. The bags under his eyes from keeping himself working so he wouldn't have to sleep. Even his clothing, when he wore his suits and gelled his hair and wore the contacts, it was so he really could become a different person. He could feel his heart breaking.

Arthur looked up at him sadly. "I still didn't accept what the coach had done to me was wrong. I thought that he loved me, that I was special to him. Brian took that all away, Eames. I showed you right? He came to the park one time. I'd stopped hustling, but I still liked sittin' on the swings.

"Brian looked good, Eames. Then he comes talking shit about how I'd been molested and abused and used. And I couldn't accept that. He made me so angry that I nearly hit him, but he wasn't afraid of me. It's like he knew how I was feeling and that he could make it better. Credit to him, he tried. He kept coming round my house every day to see how I was. My mom loved the kid. I hated him. I put up with it for a few weeks, but then I realised I hated Hudson almost as much as New York.

"Ran away that night to LA, best thing I ever did. Reinvented myself, called myself Arthur and never looked back. I even managed to forget about it for a while. Hooked up with Dom and Mal, they took me in, and I learnt how to become what I am today. But I've never ever hated anyone as much as I hate Brian."

Arthur finished his story and felt his nose. The bleeding had stopped. He looked up to see if Eames looked disgusting in him. He was surprised to see Eames getting closer to him. Eames reached out his hand and cupped Arthur's cheek.

"Oh, darling, that's the first time you've ever admitted it, isn't it?" He murmured as he watched Arthur lean into his touch. Arthur nodded.

"Why aren't you angry, Eames?"

"I'm fucking furious, Arthur, but not at you. Never at you."

"I'm dirty."

"No."

"Eames?"

Eames leaned towards Arthur, and stopped when their noses were touching. Arthur's eyes were closed. "Hmm?"

"Sleep with me tonight?"

Eames kissed him. It was light and easy, nothing rushed or forceful.

"Of course."


End file.
